Birdie
by Carousel Of Curiosity
Summary: She was definitely not from this time period. She shouldn't be here. Her Mother should. She was merely 15 when she was transported to 1899, the time just before the Newsies Strike. Alone, scared, and a vile feeling in the pit of her stomach she trekked farther into the distantly familiar New York.
1. Authors Note

**Oops, here I go again with these Authors Note. This one is a bit different, however. I'm apologizing for lack of activity and lack of updating Clockworks. Honestly, I've been rather busy these months as I edge towards the end of school. I've been balancing School Work, my Final Exams, State tests, projects, and my main reason for my absence. Advanced Art. If you didn't know I have the ability to art. So, I was recommended for this program and I had to draw and paint A BUNCH. These needed all of my focus because my grades haven't been so well. I have 3 B's and for my upholding pride of an All A Student, it hurts. Trying to raise that up before the end of school in 4 weeks. FOUR WEEKS. The studies I have it in I adore as well so it really bends me over. On the bright side, I just updated my other 'fic Clockworks and am planning to start on Chapter Uno, hopefully, this week. If not, I am truly sorry, but School always comes before updating my stories. Plus I have had many ideas for other books that I am writing out of this about Communist America which needs my attention too. I love all my few watchers dearly, and I will try to hurry this process, but I cannot rush time unfortunately. **

**~Your loving and inspiring author,**

**Bethany. **


	2. Ralph Walters

**Mhm! Here it is... took me a bit to put together. And a WHOLE lot of Jimmy Buffett. :)**

* * *

_**The So-Called Picnic **_

Her fingers gripped the pencil tightly and she bit her lip. The summer was new, a warm breeze ruffling the green that rested below her balcony.

'_June 21st, 1922,_

_Today the sun is as bright as ever and that makes me feel sp-"_

It was the hardest part. Ever since her best friend Megara died, her Mother hired a ratty old therapist who made her write down her feelings and she wasn't able to leave the house till it was done. It aggravated her on the warm evenings when her Father hosted extravagant parties and she couldn't be apart of them because she was stuck on one little stupid feeling.

In a sudden dash of rage, she furiously wrote;

"_It makes me feel _angry. _I know I'm stuck on this balcony while my friends are enjoying the weather down in New York!"_ She looked off to the distant city's outline against the baby blue sky, trying to think of what to write next, when her Mothers voice echoed.

"Elise Agnes Vivian Frogatte, dear, can you come here?" Stubbornly, she threw herself from her chair and shut the Jazz record that played but got mixed into the natural music and the whistling of the Nurse Maids tittering about.

As Elsie approached her,she snatched up a lemon drop and plopped it into her mouth quickly then faced her mother. "Yes, Mother?" she replied sweetly the best she could with a rather full mouth, earning a stern look from her Mother and quickly dropping the act.

"Darling," her tone alluring and beautiful, "Come take a drive with us it is beautiful outside and I hate to see a beautiful young girl trapped in a coop." Her fingers traced my jaw and she put on a smile. Her Mother, Mrs. Irene Frogatte, is naturally beautiful. Very social as well, and it drove her up a wall. Irene was tall, slim, with cut dark hair and pale skin with deep green eyes, her sister taking those genes too. Elise, however, had looks completely different of the ones her Mother and Sister shared. Most rumors had that her Mother was a mistress and that is why Elise had the white blonde hair and the eyes that mixed different colors like a kaleidoscopic.

Getting snapped out of her thoughts once more, she wiped away the dazed look and gazed upon her Mother who was looking her over, but mostly at her ragged clothing that she had been writing in, smeared with ink. Her Mother made a disgusted noise and turned towards the door, walking over like cat would to prey.

"Come down when you're all cleaned up, dearie," she said, turning his face a bit with pursed lips and a musing look in her eyes, then left the room the only thing remaining of her was the sharp closing of the door.

* * *

The breeze was nice, but it was probably the only thing that was nice. She was sitting up, almost standing, glancing out as the beautiful city of New York got farther and farther out. She sucked in a breath and forced her gaze from the wondrous city.

"Where are we even going?" she asked, sinking down farther in the seat and playing with a little strap in the seat.

"Somewhere you will faintly remember, dear, but you have been here," her mother said, not taking eyes off the scene in front of her.

'_Thanks for the helpful information,' _she angrily thought, crossing her arms and feeling the wind blow through her hair.

As soon as the car stopped and she climbed out, settle memories flickered across her mind making her feel locked in a memory.

'_Her father laughing as he willingly got tackled by Elise, tumbling over together down the hill of lazy flowers and dancing sunlight..'__  
_

"Elise, you must stop escaping reality," scolded her Mother, closing the door with a chiding look.

She was too struck by honey sweet memories to get completely mad at her Mother, so she kept her gaze down the hills with a smile. "Why did we come here?" she asked, turning her face to her mother and slightly bunching up her shoulders.

"So you can have more motivation," her Mother said slyly, turning around with Elise sister, Majoire, at her side. "Ta ta, call for us when you are done."

"Well damn."

* * *

After an hour or two of writing, she set down the pencil heavily and looked up from her Journal at the sun, slowly getting high in the sky and yelled out for her mother.

No response.

She yelled again in a more desperate tone. Had her Mother abandoned her for the sake of her own reputation? She charged up the hill to where they had disappeared to. No one. She wailed and got on her tippy toes, searching around for a road that she could get to, or a house. A house.

In the distance rose a smoke column probably at least 20 minutes hike. Perhaps they'd have a car to get her home. She started walking towards the house, thinking of all she would do when she got home. Once again, tangled in thoughts, she didn't notice a man about 20 or so pull over towards her. "Hello?" he asked, getting out of the car and looking her over, then placing a hand on her shoulder, Elise finally jerked out of her thoughts.

"Hello," he said, his voice smooth like honey and sweet like candy. Alluring, very. "H-hi," Elise stuttered back to him, staggering a bit at his looks. His honey comb hair, rich brown eyes. He was perfect.

"What are you doing our here all alone, miss?" his tone like the purr of an engine roaring to life.

"Oh. Writing. Dropped off. Left alone," realized the jabber she was talking, she looked at him with large, sad, kaleidoscope eyes and whimpered; "_help_."

He looked at her and closed his eyes for a second, before returning the crestfallen look she coasted him. "Where do you live?" he asked, turning and walking towards his car, Elise following at his heels.

"2100, Long Island Road, Long Island. Labeled as Frogatte Manor?" she said, peeking at him in a quick glance as he started the car. "Daughter of Irene and Robert Frogatte? Interesting," he murmured, the car jerking forward quickly, heading towards home.

"So what's your name?" she asked, looking at him with all the dignity she could manage. She probably looked like a rich prostitute.

"My name is Ralph Walters, son of Lois and David Walters. Despite your popular parents, which daughter are you?" he said asking it with a humorous air. He knew exactly who she was, because of her off features.

She shot him a negative look for a second, then straightened out the hem of her dress, tilting her chin up. "I am Elise Agnes Vivian Frogatte," she sniffed, looking lowly of him.

He grinned boyishly, and sneaked a glance at her. "Now may I ask how old you are?" he said with a smart smile.

"Fifteen, sir, and you must be at least 18 years old?" she said. It was her turn for the smart looking smile.

"I'm 20, flattering," he chuckled, one hand on the wheel and the other in the compartment in the middle, like it was going to inch over to her.

For some turn of her stomach, he made her feel uneasy. Why had he been driving down that road in the first place? She shuffled in her seat and asked, "how long until I am home?"

"About 5 or 10 minutes," he reckoned, using the hand free of the wheel to comb through his hair. That's when it hit her. He was trying to seduce her with his handsomeness.

She made a face. "Oh, then could you hurry it up a bit? I don't have much patience," she chided, crossing her arms and putting out her bottom lip in a pout.

"I can't rush time," he said slowly. "But I'll try."

After about 10 minutes he finally pulled into her drive way to her relief. She got out and closed the door behind her. "Well, it was very nice of you to-" she was stopped dead sentence by his lips covering her lips and his hands cupping her face. She was shocked. Frozen. Couldn't move. And he seemed to realize that. His hands move to her shoulders, then down her side to her waist where he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

Finally, like an electric prick, she startled back to reality and back to the fact that she was sitting here sharing spit with Ralph Walters, a 19 year old that she literally met 20 minutes ago. She put her hands on his chest and slammed backwards, pushing him off of her. "Good bye, Ralph," she said sharply, turning around and heading towards her house, her fingers occasionally brushing against her swollen lips.

She walked inside her house and looked around, then caught sight of her mother lounging about. With a shrill growl, she stomped all the way over to her amused Mother and Sister. "How _dare_ you leave me alone! I had to get some guy to dri-" she was interrupted yet again.

"How was Ralph?" her Mother said, putting her lips to her wine glass and sipping it. "You-you... You set. This. UP?!" I yelled, stomping my foot for emphasis. Her mother wasn't faced.

"Well you do need to marry," her Mother said. "He was charming and he was close enough to your age," Irene said. Majoire had a sad smile on her face as she looked at Elise.

With one more sigh, she turned around and headed upstairs. The sun was still high. Probably four more hours of sunlight. "Majoire!" she called down from the balcony, her older sisters cat like face peeking around the corner. "Would you like to go on a picnic with me?" Elise asked, turning around to head to her room and finish changing as she heard her sister come up the stairs to the door way.

Elise shed her clothing and slipped on her white and black bathing suit with a white lounging dress to go over. "Why not," Majoire finally answer, looking at Elise's new apparel.

She was going to go down to the cliff. Down to the cliff that could possibly end her life.

* * *

**Did you like it? She isn't going to switch time periods until possibly next chapter, so stay tuned!**

**Favorite, follow, review!**

**~Bethany**


	3. Incredibly Wild

"_With one more sigh, she turned around and headed upstairs. The sun was still high. Probably four more hours of sunlight. "Majoire!" she called down from the balcony, her older sisters cat like face peeking around the corner. "Would you like to go on a picnic with me?" Elise asked, turning around to head to her room and finish changing as she heard her sister come up the stairs to the door way._

_Elise shed her clothing and slipped on her white and black bathing suit with a white lounging dress to go over. "Why not," Majoire finally answer, looking at Elise's new apparel._

_She was going to go down to the cliff. Down to the cliff that could possibly end her life._"

* * *

It was much, much prettier than she expected. Green, alien green grass, stretching to the end of the cliff as if it was trying to connect to New York City. Wildflowers of exotic colors danced around the green, swirling and twirling, showing off their colors like a peacock.

'I can't tell if I'm happy I'm dying in such a beautiful place, or sad because I'll never see this place again,' she thought, a bitter aftertaste to the exquisite sight.

Turning around, away from the cliff, she floated back over to Majoire like a ghost recalling on all the times her Mother instructed her on not walking like a 'savage' but like a girl she was supposed to be. Dainty, innocent, fragile. But what her Mother never knew couldn't hurt her.

"Majoire, may we hurry up on eating?" she said, casting a glance at the cliff and the water below. "I'm _dying_ to take a swim.." Majoire gave her a weird look the cooed, "But Elise, we have a pool at home, why not swim in that?" Majoire lifted the glass of wine to her lips and sipped it, "besides, if Mother knew you swam in _that_ water," her sister raised her eyebrows.

"What Mother doesn't know, can't hurt her," snapped Elise, saying her thoughts out loud to her sister. With huff, she sat down and snatched food up, cramming it down her throat and ignored Majoire's hostile stares. Standing up and dusting off her dress, she turned around and walked towards the cliff.

"Do not swim in your dress!" called Majoire from behind her. Elise rolled her eyes and slightly turned her head. Then looked down.

Waves crashed against the jagged coast, mocking her to jump. By the looks of falling, and her flailing about, she would probably be a victim of instant death, which she preferred.

Silence. No sound. None from her Sister and none from her, except that beating of the blood running through her ears in adrenaline. Now or never. She took a deep breath and closed her, stepping forward and onto nothing except air.

The wind felt good ripping through her clothes but the only thing she could hear was her sister screaming as she tumbled down off the cliff. She rolled to face down and see her fate, the grey of the rocks and the blue of the ocean coming close quickly. Then there was nothing. No screaming, no more mocking waves. Silence, and utter black.

* * *

XX|**_Majoire's_ POV**|XX

Majoire screamed and scrambled to the edge of the cliff, hoping her sister had survived and just taken a dive for her adrenaline problems. But no. Elise was flailing and quickly approached the rocks and waves. Then she did hit it.

Majoire covered her mouth quickly and stepped back, shaking violently. Her sister was dead._ Elise was dead._ No more headstrong Elise, no more heated arguments with her Mother about clothes, no more little girl who always tried hard to be Majoire. She was gone. Majoire tripped over her picnic basket and fell down, scraping her arm. She gathered the picnic items and ran for home, to tell her Mother. And send a letter to her Father.

She slammed through the door, wiping her eyes and whimpering sobs. Her Mother quickly was out there to meet her, cradling her and cooing like a bird.

"What is it, darling?" she purred, slightly pushing her away and looking her in the eyes with pursed lips.

Majoire struggled with words, trying to use her hands, opening her mouth and hesitating. "Mother... Elise.. she died..."

Irene looked up from her Father's eyes and slightly stepped away. "How?" she asked, running a hand through her hair exasperatedly.

"She jumped. From the cliff. Suicide, Mother, suicide," whimpered Majoire, crumbling to the floor and burying her head in her hands. She felt her Mother slowly move over to her and sit next to her, putting her arm around Majoire's shoulder and tugging her closer, laying her chin on Majoire's head.

For the first time, she'd find comfort in her Mother.

* * *

XX|_**Elise's**_ **POV**|XX

She wasn't falling for long. After a few seconds of hitting the ocean, she crashed onto something hard and a sharp pain blurred her vision from her ankle. She warily looked at her ankle, fearing the worst and seeing the worst. The bone was visibly broken, and was a ugly purple. Sucking in the bitter pain flowing through her body, she stood up, sucking in a breath.

Where was she? Why wasn't she dead? The only thing she knew was her broken ankle and that she was isolated in an alleyway crawling with rats and stray cats. She whimpered and bit her lip, hobbling over to the end of the alleyway, looking out carefully both ways.

The streets were cobblestone and horses hauling carts trotted up and down the streets. Woven in the commotion of a busy street, newsboys yelled titles, driving people into their schemes of earning money.

This definitely was not her time period. Not even close.

She stumbled back into the wall and recalled everything that had happened. She had committed suicide- right? But now she was back in the 1890's, dressed like a 1920's rich girl and probably an 1800's rich prostitute. Great.

To top that, her beautiful white dress she was wearing was smeared with dirt. How much had it caused.. like $45 dollars? She was infuriated. She was about to stomp into the streets when the searing pain came back and she nearly collapsed to the ground with the help of someone bumping into her.

She was about to turn around and hiss something rather unladylike when the person caught her arm and put the other hand around her mouth. Oh hell no. Time to go Elise-bitchy mode.

He dragged her back into the alleyway, kicking her feet and trying to scream while ignoring the pain in her ankle. She shook her head viciously then bit down on his hand, refusing to let go until he pulled his hand away, swearing and cursing her.

In a quick instinct, he put his forearm against her neck and pushed himself as close as he could to Elise, his alcohol and cigarette smelling breath covering her and making her wheezy.

"'Ello you lil' bitch," he sneered, using his other arm to wipe his mouth and nose with a sniffing noise. "How 'bout you and me go an' haff some fun, eh?" the man snickered, leaning his face closer into hers. Elise collected spit in her mouth and spat in his eye.

He roared in rage and took it out on her, slamming his rough calloused hand against her face, causing her to yelp in pain. "That's how yah wanna play, is it yah lil' whore?" he spat, kicking her shin and making her collapse a bit more underneath him.

She was in shock, but at the same moment her mind was racing for an escape. With her ankle, she could try to run but he'd just catch up to her and force himself upon her. She did the only thing she could think of at the moment- screaming.

She screamed so loud, birds at the top of building screeched and flew off. He looked down at her, eyes narrowed. "Donchu think 'bout doin' that lil' stunt ag-" She screamed even louder than before, using all her energy into it.

Her vision was getting darker... and darker. The last thing she knew was the man being kicked off her and someone picking her up and carrying her away from her attacker.

* * *

Oh my gosh. Her body was sore. From her toes to her scalp it ached. She moaned and slightly opened her eyes, closing them for a second, then opening them wide again looking up. Four guys were towering over her, looking at her and muttering things until one loudly exclaimed; "Oh hey guys! She's awake!"

Elise sat up a bit and ran a hand through her hair, "Yeah yeah.. I'm awake." Yawning, she looked at all the boys. A guy probably around her age that looked definitely Italian with his dark hair and eyes, a boy with ruffled looking blonde hair and blue eyes- well eye. The other eye was covered by an eye patch. The third guy was taller then the first two, with brown hair and darker green eyes and a red bandanna tied around his neck, a cowboy hat hanging off of it. The last boy was leaning back, his arms crossed with a 'whatever' look on his face. He had brown hair and brown eyes. Boring features, really, but incredibly wild on him.

"Who ah you? And why was youse walkin' around and who was dat man?" asked the boy with the red bandanna tied around his neck.

"Back it up. How many questions was that? Three questions in one statement?" Elise remarked bitterly, crossing her arms. She wasn't in a mood to be bossed with.

He just kept the look and she rolled her eyes with an irritated sigh. "My name is Elise Agnes Vivian Frogatte," she replied, straightening out her blanket. "Woah, long name yah got theh, can we jus' call yah Elise foh now?" asked the boy with blonde hair.

"I was getting to that," she said tightly, looking at him before continuing to answer the questions.

"I was walking around because I was dumbfounded of my situation, I have no idea where I am and I am not from your time period. I am from the 1920's, the second Daughter of one of the richest families in New York," the Italian looking boy snickered and Elise glared at him.

"And for your last question-"

"Not my last."

"LAST question, I have no idea who that man was, he came up to me and tried to force, er, intercourse on me," she said with a staining smile. "That is all of the questions?" the boy with the red bandanna opened his mouth to say something, but Elise interrupted. "Great, now I have some questions for you."

They all kind of slumped like, '_oh my gosh she's a girl she's going to have a_ million_ questions._' She coughed a bit and sat up more. "Who are you all? One at a time, state your names," she said strictly, tilting her head.

The annoying boy with brown hair spoke up first, "Cowboy, leadah of the Manhattan Newsies, at 'chore service," he said with a bow. Next to speak was the Italian looking boy.

"My name is Racetrack," he said, pulling out a cigar and taking a breath of it. "Got my name from betting at the horse tracks." She looked up at him and blinked, "I would have never guessed."

"I'm Kid Blink, youse can call me Kid or Blink if yeh want to," he said with a boyish grin. "I was the one that rescued you." Elise genuinely smiled and dipped her head a bit, "Thanks for that Blink."

The brown haired boy sat up a bit and sighed with a bored look. For some reason, it made Elise's heart skip a beat. "My name's Skittery," he drawled.

So that was them. Racetrack, Cowboy, Kid Blink, and Skittery. Oh boy.

"Newsies, huh?" Elise said, twiddling her fingers and looking down. Cowboy raised an eye brow at her. "Yeah, so?" he said.

"I don't know where I am... and I do need some money to get through.. Do you think you could," she stopped and took a deep breath. "Maybe I could join you're little organization?" she asked hesitantly.

Cowboy's face crossed with deep thought, and she'd thought he was going to say no. But after a few minutes of thinking he sighed, "Shoah thing. But you're gunna have tah drop da name," he said looking at Elise to see if she'd drop out at the rule.

She kept the smile. "Okay, to what? I'm not good at giving myself nick names," she said, turning her head a bit with a mischievous smile.

"She's like a bird, talks a lot," said Skittery from the little depression corner he was in. Cowboy looked at him and nodded a bit. "Yeah, I like that," he agreed.

He looked at her, "From now on you will be known as Birdie," he said looking at her. "When that ankle of yoahs heals, you can staht. But foah now, you stayin' in bed."

Excitement jolted through Elise- _Birdie_. She perked up a bit and grinned, nodding eagerly. "Alright, can't wait," she mused.

"But for now," he looked at Skittery. "Stay wif Birdie, she needs someone to make sure she don't get in trouble."

Skittery groaned, "but I need to make my money. How can I watch a _goil_ while trying to provide foah myself!" he protested. Cowboy looked at him, "I'll give you half what I earn until she's better so youse don't fall behind," he said, clapping Skittery on the shoulder.

"See you when youse bettah," Cowboy said, winking then turning around, Racetrack and Kidblink following behind him.

* * *

**Wooh. That took a while, but once you get into it, it's F-U-N. (kind of.)**

**So how many of you guessed that was her named hence the title of the story? All of you? You guys make me proud. c:**

**R&R! I'll reply to you, I promise!.**

**~Carousel of Curiosity  
**

**p.s School is almost out, yay!**


	4. Magical Healing Skills hurrah?

**Welllcommmmeeee back! Thanks for the Reviews, I'm going to answer it when I'm done with this chapter. :) Happy reading! **

* * *

_Excitement jolted through Elise- _Birdie_. She perked up a bit and grinned, nodding eagerly. "Alright, can't wait," she mused._

_"But for now," he looked at Skittery. "Stay wif Birdie, she needs someone to make sure she don't get in trouble."_

_Skittery groaned, "but I need to make my money. How can I watch a goil while trying to provide foah myself!" he protested. Cowboy looked at him, "I'll give you half what I earn until she's better so youse don't fall behind," he said, clapping Skittery on the shoulder._

_"See you when youse bettah," Cowboy said, winking then turning around, Racetrack and Kidblink following behind him._

* * *

Elise woke up on Wednesday morning, a week after her little incident , the dreary weather making her even more tired than she already was.

The rain poured against the window and her temporary guardian who didn't give two shits about her was in the corner, sleeping against the wall. He was attractive, but damn, what was she saying? She couldn't go falling head over heels for some guy who was annoyed with her very presence and that she could leave in any second.

She sighed and dropped her shoulders, looking out the window with a frown. Elise wished to be out there, instead of trapped in here. She wanted to explore the many streets of New York.

Thirst draped over her and boredom took advantage of it. Looking around at items near her, she spotted a small, clay ball that seemed as if an old knick knack. Picking it up and rolling it in her palm, she glanced from it to Skittery, a devilish smile growing on her face.

"Skittery," she cooed, throwing the ball up lightly into the air. "Skittery," she repeated sternly. Seeing that he wasn't going to awake, she threw the clay ball at his face.

He let out a shriek(very girly in her opinion), and looked at her with a glare that could kill. "What the hell was that for?" he growled, picking up the ball and examining it thoroughly. Elise giggled and ran a finger through her now messy blonde hair. "You wouldn't wake up, so I went to desperate measures," her voice in a squealing tone. "What do you need?" he said exasperatedly, leaning his head back against the wall. "A glass of water," she said, controlling a wicked grin about to spread across her face.

"You wake me up... tah ask for a glass of watah?" he put his head in his hand, the other hand massaging his temple. She nodded eagerly at him. "When ya could have gotten it yaself?" he finished, another glare crossing his face. She gaped at him, putting one dainty hand to her chest as if saying, '_Me? Innocent, hurt, confused,_ me?' "Sir, not to question your intelligence, but you do realize someone with a broken ankle cannot simply just 'get her own water,'" she said.

Tossing his eyes at the ceiling, he heaved himself to his feet muttering, "whatevah." She smiled widely and brushed his arm with her hand as he walked by. "Very gentleman like," she praised with a hint of sarcasm. With one last scowl, he walked out of the room and towards the kitchen to get her a glass of water.

What he said about getting it herself hung on her thoughts. What if... what if she tried getting up? Maybe she just sprained it. She ran a hand down her leg to her ankle and felt it, applying small pressure. She winced, but then perked up a bit. The bulge was gone? The bulge was gone. How could she have gotten rid of it quickly, being it was a week ago she earned the wounds. She sat back, wide eyed. Did her somehow luck in time travelling heal her wounds quickly? She'd have to find out. She twisted herself to the side to stand up, but jerked back in bed and grinned at the door as Skittery walked in with water.

He handed her the water, looking at her to see if she was going to all of the sudden throw it on his face and laugh. Which she probably would any other time, but being at what she just discovered, she could barely move. She gripped the glass and brought it to her lips, the cool water trickling down her throat.

Skittery brushed off non-existent dirt on his pants and looked at her. "I'm going ta go sell, I'll be back. Don't kill yahself, kid," he said and turned to leave. She looked at him. "Kid? Kid? I am not a 'kid.' I prefer the term Young Lady," she corrected, looking at him regally. He mocked a bow and then sarcastically said, "Very well. Do not execute thyself, Young Lady."

* * *

She waited a while after he left to try walking. So she read to pass time. With a sigh, she laid it down on the table, marking the page. This could be the time to try it. Yeah, she could, but should she? She moaned and slammed her head against the pillow, exhaling loudly. "Damn, damn, damn, damn," she muttered under her breath. Sitting up once more, she swung her legs to the side, leaving them hanging over the side of the bed. "One, two, three," she whispered, slowly pushing off it.

Yeah well, at first it was fine but then the soreness of an at least badly sprained ankle took over and she clutched the side of the bed and winced. It hurt, yeah, but she could walk at least. She took another step towards the window with a shaky breath. The more she walked, the more the pain became more of a dull ache than shooting fire.

She put her hands on the windowsill and drug herself to the edge, peering out at New York. It was nothing like her New York. No bright lights, cars, cigarette smoke. No. Instead New York was dull looking, the only noises from carriages tumbling about the cobblestone streets and newsies shouting head lines. Lights were scarce, the street lamps dimly lit on the dreary afternoon. Still she longed to be out there reaping havoc and exploring ever crook of it.

She was about to open the window when she heard the door open. Quickly retracting her hand, she looked at Skittery who was looking at her- glowering at her. "Ah..ha.. hi there Skittery," she greeted with a smile play at her lips. "Youse can walk," he stated dully, looking her over. "Yes bu-"

"Yah could have gotten yah own water."

"Well, yes but lis-"

"Yah could have let me work and earn money instead of sitting heah and baby sitting yeh."

"NOT babysitting but listen or I'll have to raise my voice," warned Birdie, giving him a hard look. He gestured to continue talking, then crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. She took a short breath. "I was completely unaware I could walk until I tried getting up and my pain was dull so the need to state some what obvious facts is not needed and I would appreciate cutting it because I am still a bit shocked of waking up some place I didn't know and then finding out I heal faster than a normal human being because that is completely unusually and I'm a quite usual girl."

He raised an eyebrow, "That's all?"

"All of it."

"Okay well, Jack will need tah heah this so I can be relieved of my duties and youse can start yoah job as a newsie," he told her, pushing himself off the wall and walking out.

"Hey! Skittery! Wait up I want to come!" Birdie shouted after him, jogging and wincing at the small shocks of pain. He stopped and groaned, "Do youse really have tah come wif me? I want tah enjoy a lil' bit wifout ye chirpin' in mah ear." She smiled, "Dear Skittery, my name is Birdie. You expect less?" Birdie remarked sarcastically passing him with her head tilted up.

"Gals."

* * *

It felt so good to be back outside, she just wanted to scream and jump and sing. Skittery, however, walked quickly and with an attitude which drained all the happiness out of her.

"How come you never smile," she said walking up to his side from previously trailing behind.

"What reason is theah fah me tah be happy 'bout? I live on the streets and can hahdly afford tah eat," he practically muttered, shooting a small scowl Birdie's way. "I've seen other Newsies smile and they live under the same circumstances you do," she said looking at her feet.

"Yoah annoying when yeh ask questions," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"You didn't answer my question."

He stopped and looked at her. "I had a bad life befoah comin' heah. No moah questions or I'll haff to soak ya," he growled out, turning into some gates. Boys- and a few girls stood in a line socializing. She recognized a few; Kid, Race and the mop of brown hair that they called Jack."Jack!" called Skittery. Everyone's head turned towards them. She probably looked like a prostitute with her white greek styled dress and her swimwear beneath that you could faintly see.

"Birdie! Skittery! Nice tah see yeh guys didn't claw each othas eyes out!" he joked, sauntering over with a grin. He looked over her. "I see you've healed. Youse gonna need some new clothes befoah youse can come a newsie," Jack said. "I ain't complainin' with whatcher wearin' now though." She smacked him lightly on the chest a smile on her face. "How much does it cost?"

"Judgin' by deah ol' Mrs. Sillan, prolly 15¢. Jus' tell 'er Jackie boy sencha," he paused. "How much money do yeh have?" A blush appeared on her face as she awkwardly reached in her top and pulled out a wallet, then searching through it. "Five dollars," she stated.

"Five dollars! Why didntcha tell us yah Pa was rich!" he laughed. "Anyway, go upon yah way. Ye can't miss it. Three blocks from heah or so. It's called Sillan's Fabrics."

"Thank you!" she grinned, turning to walk down to the shop.

* * *

She was almost there, muttering under her breath, "Sillan's Fabrics..." while looking at her feet.

"Sillans Fa- Hey!" she stumbled and fell on her butt. "Watch we're you're goin' ass-" she looked up and a boy a little older than her- probably 16 or 17 was looking down at her. He had the sharpest blue eyes she had ever seen with dirty blonde hair tucked up in a cap, a slightly turned up nose and tan-ish skin. He extended a hand and she stubbornly refused it, standing up herself. "Watch where you walk," she sniffed, crossing her arms.

"So sorry," he said charmingly- a facade she could see right through. She huffed and elbowed past the boy, not looking back, though she could feel his eyes going down her body. She snorted, disgusted. Boys could wait, she needed clothes.

Upon spotting Sillan's, she picked up her pace and quickly entered the store. A plump lady was writing something, her gaze then flickering towards Birdie.

"How may I help you?" Mrs. Sillan, she presumed, asked. "Jack sent me," she stammered quickly, her nervousness taking hold of her. "Hmph," Mrs. Sillan grunted with a smirk. "Okay, whaddaya need, dearie?" Mrs. Sillan asked. "Something to wear fit for the job. Preferably a button up shirt and some slacks that are fit to the leg," she requested leaning on the counter. Mrs. Sillan walked towards a rack and pulled out a cream button up- loose in the arms but banded on the wrists. "Perfect," smiled Birdie, looking at the top.

"And the pants.." murmured the store owner to herself hurrying over to another rack to pull out black slacks that look like they would be rather tight to leg. "Good as well, thank you."

"No problem," said Mrs. Sillan with a wink. Birdie pulled out 15¢ and placed it on the counter. "Here," she said. "Pays the price," said Mrs. Sillan looking at the bronze coins on the counter. "Now go get dressed, lets see how it looks," Mrs. Sillan said, shooing her away to the dressing room.

XXX

Birdie looked at herself. The top was perfect and was tucked into the black pants the practically hugged her legs. She had 'borrowed' boots from Skittery, so she had that part covered. She walked out of the dressing room with a slight smile. "Wonderful! Now be on your way," the store owner said, turning towards another customer. "Oh! A hat!" she said turning around and looking at an impatient Mrs. Sillan. The store owner pulled a hat from a shelf and threw it at her. "Now scat."

"But how much is it-"

"Free. Go."

And so she left, heading towards a shop across the street that was brought to her attention while coming here. Living and running in the streets? She needed some type of weapon. She walked in the shop just as she finished tucking in her choppy blonde hair. The man behind the counter sat up straighter when she walked in. "What are you looking for?" he asked gruffly, crossing his arms.

"A knife, preferably," shrugged Elise heading over to a small display of knives. Three knives caught her eye specifically. "Ooh, pretty," she said taking one out of the sheath. The three knives could do her well, her father taught her how to throw knives when he still hung around. Her finger ran up the blade of the knife. She turned around and spoke, "I'll take the three."

"Very well. It'll be 35¢," he said walking over to her and holding out a hand for the money. She dropped the coins in his hand then twisted the handles of the knife into the belt holders, making them secure.

Saying a good bye to the stores man, she walked outside and took a deep breath of air. "I'm finally a Newsie," she whispered to herself.

* * *

**Oi! I hope you liked it! Sorry it took so long, I was on vacation..**

**But what I really wanted to say is I need a Beta Reader if anyone wants to do it. Just PM me and I'll get back to you.(:**

**Chickennoodlesoup: Thank you! :D 3**

**SweetJay: Thank you! I was writing this whole extravagant thing with her arriving in a different time period but it didn't save numerous times while I was trying to write it, so I got pissed and just stopped. A different thing with her Mother though. It will be explained in the story later on. ;)**

**Ciao lovelies!**

**xoxo **

**Bethany**


	5. Medda's Malfunction

_**I own no right to Newsies.**_

* * *

**Oh sweet babies. I've been trying to finish this chapter for forever, but I've had other ideas polluting my brain. I really don't need another fanfiction to have until this is like 10+ AND I have my Loki fanfiction that I haven't updated. So I'm really, really, sorry on how late this chapter is. On another bad note, School starts soon. Eugh.**

* * *

Chapter 4

Medda's Malfunction

* * *

As soon as she got back, she felt as if Jack latched onto her.

"Welcome back, Birdie, glad to see ye got yer clothes," he grinned, looping his arm with her. "Where's Skittery?" Birdie asked with slight worried tone. As welcoming and friendly as Jack was, she felt an odd feeling of attachment and trust towards the pessimistic Newsie.

"Catchin' up on sellin'. Most of us already finished. If he was lucky, he was able tah scrape some more Newspapers from what we left him," Jack said turning his head and smiling at a Newsie who was toying with her hat. "Oh." A tang of disappointment shuddered through her. She needed more friends.

"Say, Jack, when do I get to meet the rest of Manhattan?" she asked, playing with the brim of her cap. "You'll meet 'em when we go tah eat," he said with a pat on her back, then leaving her.

Birdie felt so alone as she looked around. A group of girls chatted aimlessly, boys obviously joking about something and casting snickers at the girls. "Eugh," she groaned as she plopped herself down on the curb and looked at her feet with her head in her hands. Maybe she should have stayed in 1920's- not that she really got to choose. She hardly had any friends, and not even family members to joke about her or knock down her self esteem. She sighed.

"'Ey!" a voice rattled her from her thoughts and she looked up, a figure towering shadowed by the sun behind her. The figure sat down beside her, and she finally got a good look at the stranger. Well, it definitely was girl judging by her round face and big eyes. The girl had boring straight brown hair and hazel eyes with a dusting of freckles across her face.

"My name's Duster," the girl said, holding out a hand. "Hi Duster," Birdie said back feebly. Duster raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren' chu gon' tell me yer name?" Duster pestered, crossing her arms. Birdie's face went red with embarrassment. "My name is Birdie," she said quietly, slightly lowering her head. Duster shrieked with laughter and slapped her leg like Birdie had said the punch line of a cheesy joke. "What?" Birdie asked, looked at Duster. Duster stopped laughing but kept a firm smile on her face. "Nuthin'. Jus' thought for a girl so quiet, you get the name of a creacha so annoying," Duster shrugged off.

Birdie stomped her foot and stood up. "Excuse me, Duster, but I am nor quiet or annoying!" she gaped wide eyed at the plain girl. Duster wasn't phased at all. "Well, yeh just proved it. Youse got everyone's attention." Birdie looked around at the other Newsies that were shooting her odd looks. "Sit down, youse embarrassing yahself," moaned Duster, grabbing Birdie's shoulder and pushing her down. Birdie sat down stubbornly.

"Yoah a pretty girl, Birdie, whatcha doin' on the streets hangin' 'round with misfits?" asked Duster, peering curiously at Birdie who was looking quite blankly ahead.

"I was a pretty girl. I'm not one anymore," she responded in more of a hoarse whisper. "Look at me," this time she gained power in her voice, "I have lost my beauty. My hair is a tangled mess of white blonde that I'm not even sure is white anymore. My porcelain skin is tainted with dirt. My eyes don't sparkle. I am one of you," she leaned back on her elbows.

Duster stood up and pulled Birdie up with her. "Well enough of shamin' yoahself, les get us somefin to eat!"

* * *

The restaurant was a bit packed inside, Birdie nearly running into everyone. "Here," Duster commanded, sitting down and Birdie following. They sat at a table with 4 other girls that Birdie had no idea who they were.

"Hey Duster," piped up a girl with chestnut hair that fell to about mid back. "'Ay girls. I wancha ta meet Manhattan's newest Newsie, Birdie," Duster announced with a proud grin on her face. The chestnut haired girl was the first to talk. "Hey Birdie, I'm Winchestah."

"Shush Winchestah! I'll do the introducin'. All you do is talk nonsense," Duster snapped, Winchester sinking down in her seat and muttering something that sounded like, "sorry."

There was Winchester, the talkative chestnut haired girl that had pretty blue eyes. Winchester obviously attracted male attention by the way she fluttered her eyelids whenever a boy came by. She was flirtatious, but very nice. Barracuda, a girl probably 18 with choppy black hair and green eyes. Barracuda was the type of girl you needed to earn her trust. By word, she had a fling with another Newsie in Queens; but no one talks about it around her. Sailor, a loud mouthed blonde haired brown eyed girl who certainly had a sailors mouth. She's courting Kid Blink from what Duster said. And lastly Ginger, a girl with- hence the name- ginger hair and alley cat eyes. She was very quiet and shy but apparently she has random outbursts of talking.

"So," drawled Barracuda, her eyes flickering to Birdie's for a second before her attention was completely turned to the fork that was pestering her food. "Birdie, wheh ah you from?"

Birdie twitched, then rolled her shoulder and sat up straighter. "I lived in Long Island. I was born in Alexandria, Virginia," said Birdie simply, her gaze holding at Barracuda.

Barracuda grinned wickedly and sat up. "Long Island? Isn't that wheh rich families live? Ah you not tellin' us somefin?" Barracuda leaned forward, keeping the grin on her face.

"I am aware of the status of Long Island, Barracuda, being that I lived there up until a few weeks ago. What is there to tell? I was from a rather rich family. I am not anymore." It was Birdie's turn to smirk and slightly cock her head.

The raven haired girl snorted, "Why arenchu there? They must have abandoned you for a reason," Barracuda scoffed at Birdie.

Birdie slammed the fork down and stood up. "**_I _**wasn't abandoned." She realized the questioning stares from other Newsies and sat down. "I abandoned them."

"So wh-"

"That's enough Barracuda," interrupted Duster. Barracuda tensed and stood up. "Fine, I'll ask her later. Bye," she hissed at Duster. Barracuda turned on her heels and walked herself over to older looking boys who smirked as the acknowledged her.

"What is her problem?" asked Birdie to Duster quietly. Duster snickered and ruffled Birdie's hair. "Don't let her get ta yeah. She always questions new members until everyone's undah her boot." Birdie quirked an eyebrow. "Barracuda is under my boot," explained Duster. "I was originally supposed to be Leadah of Manhattan. I gave it up ta Jack, though," she shrugged. Birdie opened her mouth to say something, when Duster shushed her.

"You bunch is goin' to Medda's tonight?" Jack said with a smirk, coming out of no where. Duster met his smirk and raised an eye brow. "Do we haf a choice? Because if we do, I'm stayin' back. Nothin' but ol' drunk boys who try tah get every goil they meet in bed," she scoffed. "Besides, that's not a good situation foh Birdie heah, bein' so fresh on heh looks."

Birdie's eyebrows furrowed. "What's that supposed to-"

"Beeesidess!" Duster interrupted, drawing out the pronunciation. "She can't play Poker and she probably won't like the other Newsies. Why force her ta go?"

Birdie coughed loudly and turned her gaze to Jack. "I would _love_ to go. When do we leave tonight?" she asked politely- strictly for the reason to get under Duster's skin.

"Ten ta eight. We'll see you," he looked at Duster, "all of you there." With that, he pushed off the tables and ambled over to the group that Barracuda had joined.

Duster let out an exasperated sigh. "Birdie, deah, you have no idea whatchu got yahself into."

* * *

Birdie looked at herself in the slightly broken mirror that was lazily pressed against the creaking walls of the Lodging House. The clothes that she wore stuck to her skin and showed features she had easily hidden in her white dress that was draped on the banister of her bed. She sighed. Her lanky legs, narrow hips, short shoulders..

"Are you ready to go?" a voice said from behind her. She turned to see a very unamused Duster leaning against the bed post. "I cannot believe youse dragged me into this mess," the brown haired girl hissed, crossing her arms in a fit of anger. Birdie laughed lightly and rolled her eyes. "The quicker we get there, the quicker we leave," Birdie brushed past her, leaving Duster behind.

Duster jogged up to her side. "Do yeh even know wheh youse going?" Duster asked critically. "Of course I do!" _I have no idea where the hell I am going._ "It's down this street!" she guessed, pointing down the dimly lit street.

Duster groaned. "No, Birdie, it's not. It's down that street," Duster pointed to a more brightly lit street. _Dammit. I was not even close._

After a five minute walk or so, they arrived at a medium sized building with swoopy letters on the top. "Welp, heah we are," Duster said. Birdie walked inside and the smells took over her.

It smells musky, the air filled with smoke and drunken laughters filling the air. "Wow," Birdie was able to cough out. "See? Isn't so amazing as yeh thought?" Birdie opened her mouth but her words were replaced with a sleazy Jack's voice.

"Ay! I see you guys made it!" he dizzly leaned against post. "I see you are drunk."

"BIRDIE."

"Sorry," Birdie said, looking past Jack. "Hey, I'll be back. I'm going to go get a drink," a smile widened her lips as she saw the familiar brown hair in the crowd. She brushed past Jack and went to a table that had fields of drinks on it. She grabbed a mysterious brown liquid and went to head over to Skittery.

Just when she was about to move to tap Skittery's shoulder, a harsh bump made her stagger, the drink spilling all over her shirt. She let out a yelp then spun around, somewhere in that quick second grabbing her knife. Before she could question the instinct, a smooth voice took over her mind. "I'm sorry," it said. Not it, _him. _She looked at the strangely familiar boy standing in front of her. His features seemed familiar, but not his voice. She thought for a second then let out a laugh, slipping her knife in the sheath hidden under shirt.

"When are we going to meet and you aren't going to run into me?" she said, stopping her laughter to speak. This was the boy who ran into her when she went to get proper clothing. The same dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, slightly turned up nose. Handsome, in an odd way.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Again, sorry about that." He stretched out a hand. "What's your name?" A sharp red color entered her cheeks and she hoped it was dim enough to be hidden. "I'm Birdie," she said, taking that hand with a slight shake. "And yours?" she asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"I'm Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn."


	6. Born 'n Raised

**I DO NOT OWN NEWSIES**

**Back to a schedule... kind of. I think I'm going to make a blog/website for it now that we met Chapter 5 and this place will have all them character pictures and fanart/graphics. Fun fun fun. By the way, this chapter= _extremely short_. I tried and tried and tried to push other ideas out of my head but cannot manage to. They really interrupt me thinking about what'll happen in these chapters. :c eugh. so just think of it as like.. I don't know. a prologue for the next chapter..**

* * *

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Prologue

* * *

** Birdie **snorted. "Call yourself a king, do you? Bit scrawny to be a King." A muscle in his jaw twitched, making his irritation visible.

"Yah one tah talk," his reply was cool and calm, masking his bad mood.

"But I don't call myself Queen Elise."

"But you could." Birdie parted lips in mock surprise. "Flirting are we?" she laughed then drew a sip of her odd brown beverage. "Not unless yah make it flirtatious," he retorted, brushing non-existent dirt off his pants. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh well. Excuse me, King Spot. I was making my way to my friend when you interrupted. I hope you find that I do not like being interrupted." With that, she smoothly brushed past him, opening her mouth to say something to Skittery.

He was looking at her with a horrified look on his face. "What..?" she drew, then curiously looked around. "Oh," she said quietly.

Many eyes were on her. Not again. She despised being the center of attention. "What?" she said again, snapping her words. "Go about your own damn business, " she growled.

Turning back to Skittery, she smiled. "Skittery, long time no see," she greeted him. He snorted.

"A day? Very long."

She made a face. "Excuse me for trying to be civil," she snorted, turning from the tall boy. He exasperatedly sighed. "Euh, whatevah. Whaddaya need?

Her head turned just a bit. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously quirking an eyebrow.

"Youse came to me. Whaddaya. Need?" he repeated in a bored tone.

"What makes you think I need something?" she asked, fully turned around peering at him.

"Yeh usually don't talk tah me unless yehr sick, injured, or can't find yehr own battles," he responded quickly.

"Do I look like any of those right now? How about I just wanted to talk to you?" she retorted, fleeing from him into a bustling crowd.

* * *

When she returned to Duster, Duster was deep in a conversation with another girl newsie she'd never seen. The girl had black hair to her shoulder blades, evenly tanned skin, and dark brown eyes. She was a pretty girl, really.

"Hey," she said to Duster, casting a look at the girl who returned it with a small quiver of lips. "Who's this?" Birdie asked.

"Her? Oh this is Sense. Birdie, meet Sense; Sense, meet Birdie."

Quick 'hello's' were exchanged between them before Sense spoke in a sentence.

"So, Birdie, yeh the new posh goil in Manhattan?" she asked with a genuiely curious look as she sipped an unidentified drink.

Birdie weakly laughed. "Yeah, that's me. New 'posh' girl in Manhattan." It came out a bit more snarky than she intended.

"No need tah get mean," she responded in a hurt voice. "I didn't real-"

"It's fine, Sense."

Silence casted.

"Where are you from, Sense?" Birdie picked up the conversation again.

"Ahh I'm wif Brooklyn. Born an' raised."

* * *

**see? i told you it was short. i'm doing this new thing where it's going to be like this**

**monday- birdie**

**tuesday- hetalia story**

**wednesday- cicada song**

**thursday- birdie**

**friday- hetalia story**

**saturday- _author's choice_**

**sunday- _author's choice_**

**yah?**

**ciao**

**curious x**

**P.S .com - blog**


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